


The Good Doctor

by Silex



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: Deanna’s interest in botany had brought her deep into the jungles of Borneo. There she’d hoped to discover something new, which she did – something far more beautiful and precious than any exotic flower.
Relationships: Sapient Female Orangutan Healer/Injured Human Female Explorer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	The Good Doctor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



Deanna’s interest in botany had brought her and several of her college classmates deep into the jungles of Borneo. There Deanna hoped to discover some new species of plant, hopefully one with medicinal potential.

The numerous pitcher plants she found clinging to the sodden bark of trees and growing in between their roots held some promise, as did an orchid with a lovely, netlike pattern across its leaves and flowers. The orchid was like nothing she’d seen described previously, and she spent hours documenting it in photographs, planning, with her companions how to bring one back with her.

This was interspersed with collecting water samples from the pitcher plants in the hope that some enzyme they produced in the wild possessed antimicrobial properties that protected the pitchers from rot in the damp, stagnant water they grew in.

It was a wonderful experience, but not without risks, as she found out after an accident that, in hindsight, was absurd.

As the smallest and lightest of everyone in the group, she would volunteer to climb trees to get a closer look at particularly interesting plants and flowers. Everyone had different reasons for being there, and as such she was frequently asked to go up and take pictures.

She climbed without hesitation or fear, because it was the opportunity to catch a glimpse of things not seen from the ground. Brilliantly colored birds that were mere shadows from below, vibrant insects, scurrying lizards, and occasionally, in the distance the shaggy forms of orangutans moving in the distance.

The great apes were shy, never approaching the group, but they seemed ever present in the area.

The locals acting as guides explained that there were abundant fruiting trees coming into season a few days travel away and the orangutans had been lured out of the deeper jungles they normally inhabited by the promise of a sweet treat.

Deanna liked to imagine that, when the orangutans stopped, they were watching her and her companions, observing them with curiosity and wondering why a stranger was up in the trees with them. Did they admire her for being brave enough to venture up to where they traveled, or did they resent her as an invader in their leafy realm?

They were graceful, traveling from branch to branch without faltering, moving as easily as walking or swimming through the treetops. The local guides claimed that they moved with such confidence because they memorized every tree in the forest and knew exactly where branches crossed and which were the most sturdy to support their weight, a network of roads that were invisible to the people traveling below.

Even from the trees the routs they traveled were impossible for a human to discern, something Deanna discovered when, leaning out on what she thought was a sturdy branch to get a better look at a plant she couldn’t identify growing out of the cup of a pitcher plant.

The branch she was holding onto snapped and she started to fall.

Acting fast, she had managed to catch herself, avoiding any injury worse than a scraped hand.

Unfortunately, that scrape proved bad enough.

Despite cleaning it with fresh water and bandaging it to keep the dirt out, by nightfall when she took the bandages off to look it over, the injury was red and swollen.

She slept fitfully that night, horrified at the thought of her trip being cut short, and woke up the next morning feeling feverish

As deep in the jungle as they were, getting proper treatment wasn’t as simple as turning around and walking back to civilization, and, not wishing to miss out of the trip of a lifetime, she chose to press on.

By noon she was lagging behind everyone, having to stop frequently to catch her breath.

After one such stop she found herself unable to continue, her head spinning too badly for her to stand and her hand so swollen and painful she was unable to move her fingers.

The professor leading the group had a discussion with the guides and a decision was made.

In no condition to keep up with the expedition Deanna had to turn back and one of the guides would accompany her.

The guide chosen was a gregarious young man who asked that everyone call him Johnny, despite that not being his name. It was some joke to him, something that he couldn’t explain to anyone without bursting into fits of giggles, and usually that made her like him.

Given the situation, she found his good humor grating. His attempts at making light of her situation in a misguided effort to keep her spirits up as she watched the chance of a lifetime slip away did nothing to brighten her mood.

It was the pain and fever, she knew, but in the moment knowing that wasn’t enough to keep her from being frustrated.

When she stumbled for the umpteenth time, her head reeling, and Johnny caught her without complain she burst into tears at the unfairness of it all.

That she was in any danger never occurred to her, because people didn’t die of scraped hands.

Except in the jungle, full of wet and rot and unknown bacteria, they could.

Johnny made her sit down on a fallen tree, the very tree she’d managed not to see and trip over, and took a look at her hand.

The scraped area was an off color and the swelling had gone nearly halfway to her elbow.

It was spreading fast, lines he’d penned on her skin with marker that he’d borrowed showing the progress of it.

His expression was grave as he started making camp, despite how early it was.

“It’s two days to the nearest people who might help, but it’s a harder trip than the one we’re taking” he said, boiling water on a small fire he’d made, because if they stopped long enough for it Johnny always made coffee, always, “I can run it in less than that if you promise me to stay put.”

Sick and miserable as she was, the idea of being alone in the jungle, was unbearable, even more than Johnny’s forceful good cheer.

Deanna didn’t need to say anything for him to know that his idea wouldn’t work. Whether he wanted her to or not, she would follow, determined not to be stopped by a scratch, even if that scratch was badly infected.

“Or,” he looked up, “We can see if a doctor drops out of one of the trees to help you.”

His attempt at making a joke was too much for her to bear.

Tears in her eyes, she retreated to the tent he’d setup, refusing to emerge even when he offered her a cup of his precious coffee.

This was all a joke to him, because he could go through the jungle any time he wanted, the plants and sights and wonder of it lost on him because he could go there anytime and it was all familiar.

And she was missing out on so much of it.

“I’ll let you rest then,” he said, sounding contrite and deeply worried, which was even worse than his attempts at levity.

Deanna had no idea how bad the situation was, falling asleep the instant she lay down, fast enough that it was closer to falling unconscious than true sleep.

It was a sleep plagued by clinging, miserable nightmares, ones that she didn’t quite wakeup from, just emerged long enough to flow seamlessly into the next.

Lurid flowers, full of shimmering water that made her eyes hurt to watch, hot, wet pain up and down her limbs, the scent of exotic orchids intensifying into something too strong to stomach all became one swirling misery.

Occasionally sounds from outside the tent would cut through it all, muffled conversation, because Johnny always had to have someone to talk to, even if he was alone. The trees and rocks on the ground were probably sick of him by now, that was the one clear thought that she had – that because she was miserable everyone and everything else was miserable and it wasn’t fair.

She’d never wanted to do this to anyone. All she’d wanted was an adventure and to find something new, a memory to cherish forever.

The tent flap unzipped with a sound too much like falling leaves.

“You’re lucky,” Johnny said in a hushed tone, “When you were crying in your sleep she heard you and after I explained she’s willing to help.”

Deanna stared blearily at him, wondering what that even meant. He’d said that they were two days hard travel from anyone, so who could possibly have heard her?

Then he opened the tent and let the sun in.

No, not the sun, Deanna realized, just a fire, warm and radiant.

She pulled away when licks of flame reached out towards her arm, expecting more pain.

Instead strong yet gentle fingers held her, the touch cool through the burning pain of the infection roaring in her arm.

The fire spoke, not in any of the local dialects, at least none that Deanna could recognize. The soft, flowing sounds, chirping and bubbling were such a sharp contrast to the sight of the visitor, a spring flowing from the fire.

She couldn’t understand and Johnny didn’t translate, but the visitor’s words were comforting nonetheless, as they were meant to be.

Hands turned her arm this way and that, examining the injury on her hand, inquisitive fingers tracing the lines that Johnny had drawn on her arm.

The strange words that followed were spoken in a questioning tone and Johnny tried to answer in the same language.

Only to Deanna’s feverish mind he sounded more like thick mud slowly drying in the heat of summer, than the cool water of the visitor.

When Deanna reached out, holding onto the visitor’s arm, and finding warm, soft fur that reminded her of a stuffed animal that she’d had as a child, a half remembered toy, the visitor put a hand on her forehead and then neck, checking temperature and pulse.

“A doctor?” Deanna wondered.

“Yes,” Johnny nodded, “A very good doctor. One of the best and she came here to help you.”

The fire-doctor huffed, in an affectionately irritable way, as though they too found Johnny’s humor something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

More unintelligible conversation between the two of them followed, the doctor seeming to order Johnny around and him following without protest.

When the doctor moved to leave Deanna clung to her. The warmth of her fur was comforting, somehow soothing the heat of the fever roaring through her. Understanding her need, the doctor wrapped her arms around her, rocking her like a child, muttering what had to be reassurances before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you,” Deanna whispered, allowing the doctor to lower her back onto her sleeping bag.

Even after the doctor let her go, the smell and feel of her lingered, a promise that she would return, and, more importantly, that everything would be fine.

The next thing Deanna knew someone was pressing a tin cup to her lips, the contents warm and aromatic.

“The doctor wants you to drink,” Johnny said, helping Deanna hold her head up, “It’ll help with the fever.”

She tried to tell him to go away and let her sleep, but that was too much effort.

Deanna drank while gentle hands rubbed something soothing onto her injury.

The doctor was there, talking, or singing, she couldn’t tell, soft fur and a gentle embrace.

Long fingers wove through her hair, gently tugging out the tangles. There was such affection in the gesture that Deanna thought she might cry.

And then those fingers were at her face, wiping away the tears.

Her skin was so hot from the fever that her tears felt cold, but the doctor was as bright and warm as a blazing bonfire, taking her in her arms when Deanna reached for her, soft, sweet scented fur tickled her face as the doctor held her.

Johnny asked something only for the doctor to wave him off.

She was in charge and Deanna trusted her completely.

Johnny clearly did too, despite making some joke about being afraid of something, or children. Only half awake, Deanna couldn’t make sense of it, but it wasn’t important.

Again she woke up to a drink being offered and she tried to tell Johnny that she didn’t want his coffee, only for something sweet to be poured down her throat.

Sweet with a bitter, medicinal aftertaste, honey to make something that clung to her teeth with an astringent, unripe flavor palatable, though barely.

She gagged and Johnny brought her water to wash the taste away.

Deanna slept and dreamed, shaking and sweating in turn as the fever ran its course. Sometimes the doctor held her and sometimes she massaged ointments into her hand, working the infection and pain out. Deanna flinched away from the pain, but the doctor held her fast.

The doctor was there to help her, Johnny reminded regularly, speaking in reverent tones. It was a title, Deanna realized, belonging to someone who demanded respect by their very presence and knowledge.

By morning Deanna’s fever broke and she awoke, alone.

The doctor was gone, like a dream.

Like the pain.

She flexed her fingers looking at them in awe.

Her hand was wrapped in a bandage, stained green with plant matter, but the infection and swelling were gone.

She picked at the wrapping, pulling away a piece of crushed leaf.

There wasn’t enough to recognize it by shape or scent, but it had undoubtedly been a part of what drew the infection out.

As much as she wanted to unwrap the bandage, investigate the contents of the poultice she knew better.

She could smell smoke from outside, Johnny making an early morning pot of coffee no doubt.

Deanna felt tired and hollowed out by her ordeal, enough so that she was willing to take him up on the bitter cup that he would undoubtedly offer her the moment she opened the tent flap.

The sight that greeted her outside was impossible enough that she wondered if she was still dreaming. It was a magical dream though, not a nightmare springing forth from sickness.

Johnny sat, tending to the fire, the expected pot of water for coffee was there.

Sitting across from him was a female orangutan, the ape poking at the fire with a stick and looking at Johnny critically. A short distance away a juvenile orangutan played with a pile of leaves and twigs, an imitation of Johnny’s campfire.

“Glad to see you’re up,” Johnny smiled at her, “The doctor doesn’t like coffee either.”

“The doctor,” Deanna repeated. Part of her dreams had been real then, the fire and the soft fur.

The adult orangutan looked at her then walked over, entirely without fear.

She reached up to put a hand on Deanna’s forehead and then took her injured arm, sniffing at the bandage on her hand before making some approving noise.

The orangutan and Johnny gestured and cooed back and forth at each other, some sort of pidgin of sounds and pantomime.

During this exchange the juvenile orangutan grew bored of playing with leaves and, after looking back and forth from their elder to Deanna, went over to her.

The little ape, so bright and curious, stood awkwardly on its hind legs, reaching up for Deanna.

Without thinking, she held out her uninjured hand and they grabbed on, trying to pull themselves up.

They couldn’t have weighed that much, small as they were, but in the state Deanna was in, it was too much and they pulled her to the ground.

The next thing she knew, she was on her hands and knees, the adult orangutan at her side, alternating between gently scolding the child and making sure that Deanna was unharmed.

“The doctor apologizes,” Johnny translated as the orangutan helped her so that she was sitting, “Her son was curious about your hair. He’s never seen anything with hair that color before.”

Deanna nodded, watching as the female orangutan explained something to the juvenile, her son, in whispering coos and grunts.

“She’s teaching him medicine too,” Johnny continued, “They were passing overhead when they heard you. He thought you sounded so sad and asked his mother to come down and help.”

“Thank you,” Deanna said, wishing that she sounded sincere rather than confused.

Johnny dutifully translated, adding something that made the orangutan shrug and give a dismissive gesture.

They talked back and forth for a bit before Johnny spoke to her again, “She needs to change your bandage now.”

So it wasn’t coffee that he was heating the water up for, Deanna realized as the orangutan used a crooked stick to fish several strips of cloth out of the small pot.

Leaves clung to them and she made sure that her son was paying attention, pointing to them and explaining to him no doubt in their language.

He watched, eyes wide and alert, asking questions and shooting sidelong glances at Deanna.

While the bandages cooled the orangutan wandered off into the jungle, her son scampering over and climbing on her back.

Deanna assumed that would be the end of it, the dreamlike magic done with because what she’d already seen was impossible. To except anything more was hoping for too much.

Maybe half an hour later the orangutans returned, carrying handfuls of plant matter.

The female, the doctor as Johnny called her, kept a watchful eye on the proceedings as her little son put them carefully into the pot of warm water. Occasionally she’d make some comment, take a seed or berry from his hand and toss it away.

Once she encouraged him to eat a leaf and then made an appreciative sound at the surprised face he made from the taste. There was a lesson there, though Deanna would only guess what it was, maybe telling the potency of the medicine by the flavor?

When she was satisfied with the concoction she stirred it and gestured for Deanna to hold out her hand.

Her child was not encouraged to participate in the actual care of her injury, the doctor shooed him away when he tried to help unwrap the bandage.

In response he pouted, the same as any human child might, and ambled over to Johnny, gesturing for him to hold out his hands.

Deanna assumed that he might try to mimic his mother’s actions, but the little orangutan had other plans.

As soon as he grabbed Johnny’s hands he pulled himself up and started swinging.

The female orangutan looked over her shoulder and huffed, as though to say ‘boys and the trouble they get into’.

Because of course Johnny, at the little orangutan’s encouragement lifted him higher and started spinning around in circles until they both collapsed dizzy and laughing on the ground.

“I’m helping,” Johnny panted, the little orangutan sitting on his chest and making little noises of excitement, “We’re both keeping out of the way.”

He then repeated what must have been the same comment in her language, for the female orangutan rolled her eyes before examining Deanna’s hand.

Carefully, she prodded at the scrape, noting Deanna’s response with her bright, intense gaze.

Her eyes weren’t those of a person, but they definitely weren’t those of an animal.

Hers was a deep, intense intelligence, passed down from mother to child for generations. The things she had to know…

Deanna looked up, urgently needing to know, “Johnny, can you ask her to teach me what plants she’s using, what they do?”

Johnny guide stood up, the little orangutan clinging proudly on his shoulders, clearly pleased to be riding on someone so tall, which made everything that followed feel more absurd than it should have.

A frantic, intense conversation went back and forth between the two, Johnny obviously trying to be helpful, and the orangutan clearly disagreeing at every turn.

“Being a doctor is very important to her people,” Johnny said when the orangutan stopped talking, “It’s not something that she’ll teach to anyone. She refused to teach the father of her son even though he followed her for years, begging.”

Deanna nodded, surprised that tears stung her eyes as she did. It wasn’t unexpected, that she wouldn’t be allowed to share in such things, but it still hurt. After everything she should have been ready for it.

Without hesitation the orangutan’s fingers were at her face, brushing the tears away, and then a comforting hand was on her shoulder.

She turned and grunted some order to Johnny before speaking in a softer tone, reassurances for Deanna.

“It’s not an insult,” Johnny said, “And she was looking through your notebook and pictures while you were resting, she’s very impressed by what you’ve done. I might have shown her how to use your camera and she may have taken some pictures, just to see how it worked. And…”

He stopped to talk back and forth with the orangutan.

Whatever she said made him nod and then laugh.

“The doctor likes you and doesn’t want you to be sad. Being sad can make you sick and she’d be a poor doctor if she let that happen so she says she’ll let you stay with her so she can teach you something very helpful,” Johnny explained with a smile, “She’ll show you how to climb trees so that this doesn’t happen again. Or we can try to catch back up with the others. Your call.”

Deanna looked from Johnny to the doctor, with her deep hazel eyes and bright orange fur, the orangutan certainly wasn’t some exotic orchid or undiscovered pitcher plant, but she was definitely something amazing.

Amazing and radiantly beautiful.

“I can run and catch up with the others, let them know that you’re fine and in good hands and you’ll meet with them later,” Johnny said, then added pointedly, “She’s not going to stop teaching her son just because you’re around so there’s no telling what you might pick up on.”

He winked at her, then put the little orangutan down on the ground, gesturing for him to go back to his mother.

Deanna looked at the doctor, the female orangutan staring back expectantly at her, an almost human smile playing on her thin lips.

“Thank you, oh thank you,” Deanna sobbed, tears of gratitude dampening the doctor’s thick fur as she threw her arms around the orangutan, who hugged her back, patting her and cooing words of comfort and joy that needed no translation.

“Just don’t let any other orangutans know what you see,” Johnny teased, getting in one last joke before hurrying off into the jungle, leaving her alone with the two orangutans.

She and the doctor didn’t share a spoken language, but that was fine, for the language of the heart was universal.


End file.
